


Stageplay

by Oyasumi Midear (madder5)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Anime, Bad Puns, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Gags, Headcanon, Modern Retelling, POV Character of Color, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4101514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madder5/pseuds/Oyasumi%20Midear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black Star, Tsubaki, Maka, and Soul are about to perform their respective dance numbers in the annual StagePlay Festival at Duuma Dance School. They all have the pre-show jitters. How will they cope?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stageplay

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 8/10/16: I regretfully deleted the bullet point notes I had on this fic so here is a basic rundown of what I said before:  
>   
> 1\. Everyone is in college and otherwise at the age of consent. Maka is a small breasted and thinly built woman.  
> 2\. It is set in made-up United States where people learn Japanese at a young age (similar to how Canada is with French).  
> 3\. This is a modern AU where instead of crazy hair/eye colors, everyone is Japanese with black hair and brown/black eyes unless otherwise stated.  
> 

"That's it for rehearsal! I'll see everyone back here in an hour."

Director Stein proceeded to screw the imaginary nail into his head and wheelie off the stage, tripping down the side steps with the tail of his white coat flapping in his wake. 

Gathered on the top of the stage was his group of dancers, or "cadavers" as he sometimes ironically called them, who winced at the inevitable thud as their director landed on the pit floor. 

They knew Director Stein's eccentric mannerisms all too well, and the head-screw move foreshadowed only the most important shows. There were going to be agents scouting for new troupe members tonight! 

While everyone chattered nervously, the loudest boy there was fending off a girl from interrupting him. 

"Stein isn't scaring us," the confident boy said to no one in particular. "We've been sleeping on our heads _waiting_ for an audience like this! My fans will be out there--"

"But your--"

"Shshshshshhh, I know. Those who aren't are _gonna_ be, know what I mean?"

"Hair is--"

"No Agent Harris can resist _this_ guy," The confident boy pointed to himself with his thumbs. "Am I right?"

"Sticking up--"

"That's right, Tsubaki. Stick it to the man! They're about to witness a black star in action! I _am_ who Avril calls Black Star1! Watch out! Your next religion is here! Gimme some love!" 

The girl named Tsubaki sighed reluctantly and applauded. The black star boy bowed, then yelped when Tsubaki, long ponytail in her wake, dove to tackle the protruding stick of hair erect at the dead center of his scalp2. 

Maka Albarn stood nearby, slightly amused at the scene.

 _He doesn't know it, or maybe he does,_ Maka tapped her chin. _But Tsubaki isn't so nervous thanks to him._

Maka took this moment to try calming her own nerves, relishing the energy that filled the tall and creepy space she knew to be The Backstage. Stark yellow and blue lights fell from high unknown sources, creating artificial green color that impeded a bit of character onto dull wooden floors and graying velour drapes. 

Sometimes Maka had dreams about this place, a room surrounded by suffocating curtain walls neither so easy to lift nor possible to lean on, heavy and black saturated with the loneliness and madness of the people before her, sections hanging maze-like dooming her to the same cold red oblivion. 

Demons haunted this place she knew, but Maka let herself spin in sensations of turmoil as the present smell of wax and makeup and magnolias3, the shuffling of plastic-lined fabric and costumed feet highlighted by stark neon lights, magnified the energy of everyone familiar and not familiar and seeped adrenaline into the dancing terror ever present below her stomach. 

Maka could live with a little madness.

Her partner appeared among the heightened foreground noise, conspicuously residing in shadow as he fidgeted with his tie between the mid curtains. His lazy sharp facial features and fit physique stood out comfortably under the crimson red color of his undershirt and courchief, fashionably tucked under his dark pinstriped suit which made him one very handsome devil. The coil below Maka's stomach twisted further, but she refused to notice, regaining some composure. 

Maka waved. 

The boy turned his head away. 

_That was odd behavior,_ thought Maka. She promptly walked toward him. 

The closer Maka got, the faster she walked and the faster the boy shook his tie.

"Hey, Soul Eater." Maka halted inches away, hands laced behind her back. "Ready to kill it?"

The boy had been trying very hard to avert his gaze, but the nickname crumbled his resolve.

* * *

Evans was a lazy student, but he did have some desire to enter the Duuma Dance Troupe like the more ambitious. When Maka, the very daughter of a Troupe alumnus, had offered to be his partner for the entire curriculum, he had taken it without question. _Jackpot!!_ he fist-bumped the sky of his mind. 

What he got was the opposite. What he got was a dictator who dragged him and his failing ass to the school-wide Top Ten within the _trimester_ by subjecting him to diabolical training regiments that nearly sentenced him to death. What he got was a girl he did not expect to fall in love with. 

Evans had been a quiet person. He dropped out of Julliard, and no one at Duuma quite knew why nor were they ever made to care. It was not unusual for a pianist to transfer to the competitive Duuma School of Dance, student attendees were commonly multi-talented, but when word got out that this pianist from Julliard also happened to be an albino Korean, the students were more than a bit curious to meet their new classmate. Who they met was a handsome boy whose poor sight from albinism and shirked upkeep made his rhythm mediocre and his likeness at times resemble Xibalba from The Book of Life. His rank started at the lowest and his demeanor could only be described by his white set of teeth that, although straight(laced), was rough and edgy whenever he scowled from being stared at. 

With no friends to claim otherwise, Evans was effectively rumored to be an abomination, some ungodly thing unworthy of attendance by the faculty of the school. 

Evans, however, could care less about what people thought of him, especially those who, just because his looks happened to fit their myths, took the "implications" of his appearance way too far. Refuting their stories was a losing battle, and Evans had long resolved to staying silent about himself and letting people say/do what they will. 

When someone said to his face, "You sure suck the soul out of everything," perhaps he was hungry and a little bored when he decided to respond, "I eat what I want." 

Little did he know he had spoken near Medusa, the school baby prodigy who snaked her way into being Editor in Chief of The Duuma Daily. The school paper headline read "BEWARE OF SOUL EATER" the following week. 

Evans was livid, though surprised more than anything that demonic soul sucking was what stuck about him. He prided himself in always playing it cool and wondered why he couldn't have just kept his mouth shut, but he enjoyed how his new nickname made his peers less intimidated by him, how it made them ask more questions. He didn't want to admit it, but if he felt less alone, then he didn't mind calling himself something he wasn't. 

Which was why Evans never felt so disgusted of himself when he saw Maka's face coming out of his attack, hands holding his, coaxing him out of his stupor like he wasn't the supernatural being everyone had already convinced him to be, that he was an absolute fool for thinking he had something to gain for cowering his own humanity, for never realizing he had wanted to become something he hated the most. 

When Evans confessed this to Maka later in bed, Maka went silent for a minute, but she kissed his forehead as if to forgive him and said, "You are what you eat, right?" 

He laughed louder than what was deemed polite, the humor was so corny it even rivaled his own, but the name _Soul Eater_ no longer held acid. Evans became Soul and soul became his style of dance and Maka would grace him with his full nickname before every performance to remind him why he loved her. 

* * *

Evans soaked in the details of the girl who stood before him; his eyes wandered from her pink satin dress to her neatly covered breasts to her bare pale neckline to her warm flushed cheeks... 

That then blanched in worry. 

Maka had only seen the boy this haggard one other time. It happened the last summer quarter. 

* * *

Maka had offered her partnership on a whim. She was new too, but she couldn't take her eyes off the Julliard transfer, and it was more than just because he was hot, or so she liked to think. Evans may have been in the mist of malpractices in fundamentals and have issues with timing that seemed to stem from impaired eyesight, but his dance was the only one that displayed a powerful taste in rhythmic style that Maka lacked in her own ensemble. She meant to study Evans, learn from him as much as she knew he would learn from her. She was never so ashamed when she learned of his anxiety so late into their partnership.

Maka was careless. She excelled in preparation, she prided herself in her practice regiments and warm up techniques, so when her partner refused to do them with her, she merely thought he needed some convincing. 

He collapsed, the attack immediate and obscure. Maka stood frozen in horror. 

When people saw, whispered how he looked like he was being demonically tortured, they smothered the prodigious Evans boy. Evans' breathing worsened. It dawned on Maka then, having read about stress disorders in the medical textbook she kept for her mama. 

"He needs space and some air and crowding around him will make things worse!" were things Maka yelled as she shielded the crowd away from her partner, eyes brimming with tears knowing she was the cause. 

After that day, Evans had to convince her not to leave him for what happened, saying that being with her was his choice, but Maka knew deep down she was too selfish and had fallen for him too much to leave him. Instead, she plunged into his medical record, studying every line of note, immersing herself to inventing specialized routines and warm ups that could synchronize with her own to ensure that she would never put him in danger like that again. 

* * *

It was thanks to Maka's meticulous coaching that the performance they submitted for their final was chosen for Stageplay, Duuma's annual event that held an audience of five thousand people. There was a 5% chance of Troupe recruitment, and they couldn't believe that 5% was happening tonight. Stageplay was less than an hour, and right now, Maka knew better than to underestimate his nerves. 

"Your complexion. It looks a bit green," Maka whispered with concern. Soul continued fidgeting his tie. His collar was now unbuttoned.

"Well _you_ look green," Soul countered. "I mean you look pink because of the dress but there is literally green in your eyes and it's kind of epic." 

"Must be the stage lights," Maka offered about her otherwise black-colored eyes that glanced at the bright colored green lightbulb hovering high behind him. Maka stepped closer to inspect the amount of stress present in the muscles within his arms.

"Or you're feeling greedy tonight," Soul smirked. Maka smacked his arm. 

"Okay, lift up your..."

"Stop," Soul sighed, gently grabbing her hands and winding them around his waist. 

Maka flinched in surprise, immediately feeling _it_ down there, but sank into his embrace. Soul's nose grazed the nape of her neck. Maka hummed. She was glad they chose to do this in the hidden part of backstage. 

Soul inhaled and exhaled, relaxing himself with her closeness and smell. Maka noticed his legs slightly trembling. 

"I'm just nervous." Soul quietly said in her ears. 

Maka sighed, feeling her head buzz at his low voice reverberating against her ear. 

"Me too." 

Maka cleared her throat not too effectively. 

"We can do this," Maka said, setting her lips lightly on places of his exposed skin and pressing herself closer.

Soul squeezed tighter. 

"Soul," Maka whispered.

"What," he whispered back.

"Your dick's so hard and I love it." Maka mused. 

Soul nearly choked and growled, "Tell me something I don't know."

Maka whispered, "It's unacceptablllllle," attempting a sexy Lemongrab. 

Soul muffled a groan on her neck. "Don't fuck with me."

"We could do it in the bathroom." 

".........

"Okay, now I'm just offended." As much as Soul thanked Kami every day for the fact that they were sexually active, Soul knew Maka wasn't _that_ dirty.

Maka swallowed. "I didn't know that theater bathrooms were so nice."

Soul froze. 

"Or maybe you are?!" Soul hissed aloud, pulling away but immediately regretting it. 

Maka proceeded to walk toward her bag in the corner. "You need it." Maka looked pointingly at his bulging pants. 

"Um," Soul's voice tried not to stutter as he tried to nonchalantly hide the area with his hand. "Do I need to remind you that the show's in less than an hour? That a ticket in the Troupe is on the line?" Soul's eyes were circling. 

"Didn't you lecture me for being late before??" Soul said a little too loudly. 

"You were late before?" Tsubaki chimed in. Tsubaki looking tired from arguing but satisfyingly amused. Black Star stood behind her, apparently having decided to gel every strand of his hair straight out. 

Maka glared at Soul for attracting attention, but he already had his face turned toward their friends. 

Soul answered, "We were technically early, but Miss Chinese-and-Tranditional over here set the standard for two hours prior. " 

"Two hours?" gawked Black Star. 

"I may be Chinese but it would have been three hours if Soul didn't complain about it so much," Maka sang distractedly as she shuffled through her gym bag. 

"Anyway. We're squeezing in some last limit prep." Maka shouldered her bag. 

"We'll be right back, Tsubaki. See you two in an hour!"

"Um. Okay!" Tsubaki waved. 

"Nice hair, Black Star." Soul added as Maka dragged him out the door with her. 

"Get on my level, bro!" Black Star yelled after him, singing. "Be. WHATEVER YOU can be, whoop whoop!" 

"We should do some prep, too." Tsubaki hushed, and the two left toward the direction of the indoor gym. 

###### Footnotes

1 [Trademark](http://youtube.com/watch?v=NZ7ezgZnFe4). 

2 Watch [this niconico video](http://nico.ms/sm3732531) at 1:10 for reference (sorry to those who don't already have a niconico account). 

3 "The magnolia flower meaning is attached with the symbols of nobility, perseverance, and love of nature." 

### 

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: I've since deleted the lemon and will be rewriting it entirely and putting it either next chapter or under my other pseud explicitscum. Criticism of this so far greatly appreciated!


End file.
